Hesitance
by Nubem
Summary: Spencer Reid hides the scars and bruises, but it doesn't take a profiler to see he's in pain. Morgan/Reid
1. Preface

**P R E F A C E**

This is a work of fiction based on the Criminal Minds television series.

I in no way own the characters, plot, or any other aspect of Criminal Minds and do not claim to.

The ideas represented in here are my own, with reference to the Criminal Minds series.

This story contains** abusive **material, a great deal of **angst, **and **slash**, which is defined as a romantic relationship between two males.

And, as this is a Criminal Minds fanfiction, there will likely be some amount of **violence.**

If you are uncomfortable with any of the above themes, or are not of age, please find yourself another fic, because I cannot be held responsible for any fallout from your reading this.

Please take this warning into account as you read any of my other work as well.

-.-

Thanks,

Katherine Torres.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hesitance**

_Chapter One_

* * *

><p>It was a long case; the team was exhausted as they boarded the jet, and all quickly bedded down as they stumbled on board. Derek Morgan dropped into his chair and slipped his thick headphones over his head, relaxing into his seat as the first strands of Nat King Cole reached his ears.<p>

Across from him, Spencer Reid curled his body across two seats and pillowed his head his satchel. His nearly translucent eyelids drifted shut, and a pale web of blue veins covered his eyes. Reid's face was haggard, his body waifish and thinner than usual from the stress and lack of sleep. A brief thought of concern passed through Morgan's mind before he entered the blissful abyss of sleep.

J. J. and Emily were sleeping with their heads together, blonde hair mixing with black, a blanket stretched across both of them. Neither Rossi nor Hotch slept; both were occupied on their phones for entirely different reasons. Rossi's face was drawn and tight with details from the case, while a secret smile crept across Hotchner's jaw from what was likely his son's voice.

Eventually, the six agents of the Behavior Analysis Unit of the FBI drifted off to a sleep filled with dreams in a shade of red they were far too well acquainted with. When they woke for arrival three hours later, stretching to work the kinks out, none of them looked better for their rest.

Morgan found that nights like these made for the dreariest. It was mid-June, and the heat had set in, bringing with it humid nights filled with cicadas, much like the ones droning past him. A thunderstorm crackled overhead, and the air was charged with electricity as the first rain of the summer loomed in the distance. He jogged through the parking lot to his motorcycle, a jet black Honda Shadow Spirit that was his pride and joy, but drew up short at the neglected staircase near the rear of the parking garage, where Reid sat on the hard cement steps.

"Hey, what are you doing just sittin' out here?"

"Morgan, hi. I just…I'm waiting for someone." Reid cracked a small smile. "My car kicked the bucket a couple days ago, so my friend has to come get me."

"You could've asked and I would've taken you home, Reid. It's not a problem." Morgan leaned his hip against the wall and crossed his arms as he looked down at the crown of Reid's head. "You look tired."

Reid snorted. "We all do. We were chasing Kent for almost a week. This is probably the longest case we've had to date." Morgan nodded his agreement. "Er, no offense, but don't you have somewhere to be? It's pretty late…"

"That it is, but Clooney has waited up for me much longer before." At Reid's raised brow he mentioned, "My dog."

"Ah." Reid looked down at his hands and Morgan frowned.

"What happened to your arm?"

"What-? No, nothing. My arm's fine." Reid smiled, but Morgan had seen the flash of fear.

"You sure? You can tell me anything." Reid nodded and Morgan shrugged, not placated in the least. "Alright, I'll see you later, man."

"Bye, Morgan."

Reid watched Morgan mount his bike and ride off, pausing at the entrance to look both ways. The car lot empty, Reid stripped off the jacket he'd been wearing all day, regardless of the heat. He hissed as the material dragged across the bruise on his arm, unmistakably in the shape of a handprint.

"Spencer!" he jumped, quickly dragging on the jacket. He relaxed slightly as he realized who it was, but wound himself up again at his boyfriend's next words: "Who the _fuck_ was that?"

"M-Morgan," he stammered quickly, jogging to the car and slipping inside so as not to cause a scene, "We work together, remember? H-he's BAU too."

"Shut up, I don't want to hear you right now." Jonathan pulled out of the lot, sucking hard on the end of a cigarette. Under the smoke, Reid could smell alcohol. His heart beat a little faster.

It took them a few minutes of silence to reach Reid's apartment, during which Reid tried to breathe as little as possible. He tried to leave as soon as the car rolled to a stop.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jonathan shut off the engine, and Reid cursed silently, paling as he stepped out of the car, "Not gonna invite me upstairs?"

"I'm just really tired, John. I promise I'll come by tomorrow—"

"How did it feel?"

"W-what?" Reid swallowed against a lump in his throat as Jonathan walked around the car.

"How did it feel," Jonathan pinned him against the car and threaded a hand into Reid's hair, "When Morgan fucked you?"

"We didn't…I-I _swear_—"

"Shut _up_!" Jonathan hissed and attacked Reid's mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. Reid tasted vodka under the bitter cigarette tang.

"Please…_please_…" Reid begged; Jonathan tugged his head back forcefully and bit hard into his clavicle. Reid saw stars as he bit his lip in an effort to hold back the scream.

"You're mine, bitch," he grunted into Reid's ear, a hand drifting down to rub possessively down the back of Reid's pants, "_Mine_. I see you with him again, I'll burn it into your fucking skin, you understand me?" Reid nodded forcefully, ignoring the searing pain in his collarbone. Jonathan pushed him away and got back into his car, driving off without a backwards glance.

Reid swayed on his feet, trembling, until Jonathan was completely out of site, then he stumbled to his front door and shakily undid the locks, propelling himself inside and to the bathroom, where he retched for minute after painful minute and took a scalding, hour-long shower.

-.-

"How in God's name are you wearing a turtleneck?"

Emily stared at Reid in disbelief as he set his satchel down at his desk, clad in a forest green turtleneck and slacks.

"I second that," JJ chimed in, "Reid, it's like a zillion degrees outside. You couldn't just wear a tee-shirt?" He shrugged and she shook her head in disbelief, continuing on her way to Hotch's office with an armful of files with the details of what was likely their next case.

"For a genius, you can be _pretty_ stupid sometimes, Reid." Emily chuckled and drifted past him, tugging on her own thin sleeves for emphasis.

"Good morning all—Dear god is that a turtleneck, Reid? You are just so adorable sometimes, I swear." Garcia tweaked his nose on the way to the coffeemaker, "Didn't you feel how hot it was outside? Or did your big genius brain suck up all the heat?"

"That's actually physically impossible—"

"Lighten up, kid, it was a joke." Morgan, who'd entered silently behind Reid, noticed how he jumped, turning swiftly to smile at him sheepishly.

"Hey. You, uh, scared me there."

"You are a horrible liar, Reid; I'm pretty sure we've gone over this." Morgan glanced around to make sure they were alone, "What's been going on with you? And don't say nothing, because, as we've established-"

"'Terrible liar', got it. Seriously, though, there's nothing wrong with me."

"Reid," Morgan warned. Before he could say another word, though, Hotch leaned out of his office.

"We got one, guys. Rhode Island."

Reid hustled away, and Morgan nodded at Hotch, before turning his gaze to Reid's retreating form.

* * *

><p>Like it, hate it? Drop a review and let me know.<p>

K. Torres


	3. Chapter 2

**Hesitance**

_Chapter Two_

* * *

><p>"Reid, I'm right here, all right? Just don't move."<p>

"No, no, no, please just stay there—god!"

"_Don't you fucking come any closer, or I swear to god I'll slit his fucking throat!_"

"Morgan…Morgan, _please_."

"All right, man, all right—look, I'm putting my gun down, see? Now why don't you put down the knife and take a couple steps toward me?"

The knife in reference happened to actually be a cutlass as long and wide as Morgan's arm, and was digging into the fragile skin of Reid's throat as a severely disjointed Daniel A. Stone held him hostage at the very lip of a rocky outcropping that ended in a fifty foot drop to the battering waves and jagged rocks below. The hand holding the cutlass trembled slightly, and the other was behind Reid's back, likely holding him.

"Daniel, listen to me, okay? We can work this out. I know you didn't want to kill those girls."

"_I didn't kill them! _I…I'd never hurt anyone. Never…" Fat tears began rolling down the man's face, and Morgan took a cautious step forward.

"If you want me to believe that, you gotta prove it to me now. Drop your weapon and step forward."

"I can't do that," he said wearily; brokenly.

"Morgan," Reid tried to make eye contact, to tell him without startling Stone. "Morgan, step back, _please_."

He refused to meet Reid's pleading gaze, "Daniel, you need to let him go. He has nothing to do with this, all right. Let him go and we can work this out. I promise, no one needs to die today."

Stone shook his head mutely, shaking with sobs that wracked his body, "I can't I can't I can't…"

Morgan took another step forward, and Reid saw the flash of a rifle's glass sight flash off to his left.

"_Stop! Everybody just stop!_" Morgan froze at Reid's voice, and Stone jumped, the cutlass digging in a little deeper, "Daniel, you need to listen to me, okay? I know that you feel things are out of your hands, that you're destiny is completely _out of your hands_, but you need to realize that we cannot help you unless you drop your weapons and let us take over. And this will be _your _choice, under your command; _no one else's_. Those voices in your head will mean nothing if you just _drop_ _your_ _hands_ and let us take over." These words were delivered in a calm, albeit shaky voice, not to Daniel A. Stone, but to Morgan. Morgan, who read the meaning in Reid's words and the desperation in his eyes and nodded his understanding, taking an unwilling step back.

"Daniel, can you lower the knife for me, just a little? Just so I can talk to you, okay?"

"Yeah," he sniffed, his hand shaking, "Yeah, okay." The cutlass dropped a few inches, and Reid turned slowly, so that he was almost nose to nose with Stone. The grenade clutched in Stone's hand, the hand hidden from Morgan's sight, pressed just so into Reid's stomach, as it had the small of his back before. The pin was gone, and only thing keeping everything from going straight to hell was Stone's grip on it.

"If we're going to work something out, you have to give that to me, you understand?" Reid darted his eyes meaningfully to the grenade and Stone began shaking his head again, whimpering 'no, no, no', "Daniel, look at me; _look at me._ I will not let the voices hurt you or anyone else ever again, okay? Just give me the grenade."

"I can't…I have to…have to get rid of them for good. Don't you understand? _Why don't you understand?_"

"I do! I do, you have to let me help you, Daniel. I _promise_ I can help you. Just drop the blade," here Reid gently closed his fingers around Stone's, "And let me help you."

Morgan watched as, sobbing Daniel Stone released the cutlass and Reid stepped out of his arms, his hand curved tightly around a grenade. A Special Tactics unit swept out of the trees and hurriedly handcuffed the weeping man, who was led woodenly to a squad car as Morgan grabbed hold of Reid's free arm to reel him in from the precipice. The bruised arm.

"Ah!"

They watched in speechless horror as the grenade slipped from Reid's grasp. For a heartbeat, everyone was frozen in pure shock until they surged into action, yelling and diving for the nearest available cover. Reid's breath left him a gush of air as Morgan tackled him to the ground and rolled, taking them as far away from the detonation as possible. Reid felt the earth tremble, felt the wave of heat from the blast, felt Morgan stretched around him, heavy, like a living shield.

He choked as dust surged into his lungs, with very little air to dilute it. Morgan levered himself to his feet, using the momentum to pull Reid up as well. They both coughed to clear their lungs and stared in disbelief at the space where they had just been moments ago. The cliff had sheared off in the explosion, and the place where Morgan and Reid once stood was nothing but a vast and empty space; even the cutlass that had been held to Reid's throat had tumbled over the edge with the tons of rock and into the churning waters below.

"Holy shit," they hear behind them, and they can only nod in silent agreement.

-.-

"Reid,"

He tensed; he knew it was only a matter of time before Hotchner caught up to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you are in some way compromised, you know it is up to you alone to distance yourself from a case if you feel you have a problem." Hotch's voice was grim, and the line between his eyebrows was deeper than usual.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not compromised. I thought my performance was as it always is—"

"You dropped a grenade, Reid, just as you got it out of the hands of a man who fully intended to use it."

"It slipped. My hands were sweaty, being held at knifepoint and all—"

"I'm not going to take offense to that, Spencer, because things might have gone much worse today, and I might have lost an invaluable member of my team but," Hotchner's eyes went dark, "If, by the off chance you are having a bad day—maybe having problems at home?—you need to come talk to me about it. Because you put more than your life at stake out there today." With this, Hotch turned on his heel and strode away. Reid let out the breath he'd been holding; he prayed he'd only imagined the deeper meaning in Hotchner's words.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

The feedback I've received just for the first chapter was absolutely incredible, and I truly thank all of you who took the time to respond; it really, really made my day each time I read your reviews.

To **Lynds**- You are absolutely right about the page breaks. On my word processor I actually did have page breaks, but FFNet does not recognize empty space as a legitimate page break, which is really quite saddening because it has a very nice visual effect, doesn't it? The issue with the page breaks should have been rectified by now, I think. Feel free to let me know otherwise.

To **Keith**- Your review was so…gah, I can't even find a good enough word for it! I'm actually terrified that I'm going to let you down, but I promise I'm going to make this as painless as I possibly ca. And thank you, because even as I type this, I'm grinning like an idiot because you went out of your comfort zone to give my story a try. (PS, stay away from my other work; trust me on this, 'cause plot has only recently become my strong suit!)

And to everyone else who reviewed my fic, your response has been absolutely overwhelming, and I can't thank you enough. And that was only for the first chapter! Thank you guys so much, and as always, please review.

(Oh and let me know if I changed tenses, please. I actually started this chapter in present tense without realizing...)


	4. Chapter 3

**Hesitance**

_Chapter Three_

"Dr. Reid, I need to examine you; it's standard procedure."

"I know, I know. I'm fine though, really." Reid dodged the EMT's suspicious eyes and Hotch's narrowed gaze and ducked into an SUV that would take him home. He sighed and stretched out the kinks in his back as he settled against the seat, letting his eyes drift closed for just a second. When he opened them ten minutes later, the SUV was inching forward in heavy traffic, and Morgan was behind the wheel.

-.-

The drive to the private airfield was mostly silent as Reid feigned sleep, but for the sound of the leather steering wheel making plaintive noises as it stretches under Morgan's tense grip. Rossi was waiting for them, having already made it to the airstrip. Emily and Prentiss were nearly there, and Hotch had stayed behind to tie up the remains of the paperwork. The FBI issued SUV that Morgan drove, however, was caught in traffic, at least an hour away from the airfield.

"Reid," Morgan saw how Reid flinched when he leaned in slightly to turn up the air, and the leather groaned just a little bit louder, "I know you're awake, and I'm not letting this go."

"It's nothing," Reid mumbled, and tried to give Morgan a reassuring smile. He could not, however, meet Morgan's eyes. Glowering, Morgan glanced through the windshield before finally throwing the car into park. "Show me," he said, and his tone brooked no argument. Nor did the hand clamped around Reid's wrist. It didn't hurt—yet. But the young doctor knew the pain was always yet to come. He rolled up his sleeve, and Morgan cursed.

"Who did this to you?" Reid flinched back from the murder in his eyes, the cold steel in his quiet voice.

"It…it was an accident," Reid felt sweat break out on his brow, as it always did when he had to lie, "I fell and someone grabbed me—to keep me from falling,"

"Don't gimme that crap Reid. No one bruises that bad from just being grabbed. No; for it to be this bad—" Morgan skimmed his fingertips over the purpled skin and Reid clenched his teeth, "—he would've had to hold you down, wouldn't he?"

Reid tasted bile in his mouth, and his eyes stung.

"Morgan," he whispered, hating himself for how broken he sounded, "Just let it go. Please." He still couldn't meet Morgan's heavy, livid gaze, but when he tugged on his hand, Morgan let go, put the car in drive, and simply stared through the windshield for the rest of the crawling drive to the airfield.

When they arrived, Reid couldn't quite meet J.J.'s eyes when she smiled and called him 'butterfingers'. He just dropped into a seat at the back of the jet, fastened his belt, and steadfastly stared out the window, ignoring the frown on Hotch's face, and the worried crease of J.J.'s brow.

-.-

"_Tell me,"_

_Reid bites his lip, feels the slide of Morgan's hand on the inside of his leg and fights back the gasp of pure pleasure that follows._

"_I—I can't. Please, I can't…" But Morgan winds his hand into Reid's hair, tugs just enough for him to feel it, but not enough to hurt. It puts them at a perfect angle, and Reid feels Morgan's mouth on his, coaxing him into response; it's soft, but firm. So like the man himself._

_All at once, though, Reid feels the pain begin. Morgan's fingers twist cruelly into his hair, yanking at the strands until he is forced to rise on tiptoe, straining. There are tears in his eyes and a mouth at his ear saying in a voice that is not Morgan's, "You will always be mine, Spencer."_

-.-

"Reid!"

He came to gasping, his eyes wet, and his collar throbbing where the belt from the seat beside him dug into the bite mark. Morgan leaned over him, shaking him gently. Reid pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to stem the flow of shocked tears and forced his breathing to even. Then, and only then, did he sit up, ignoring the way Morgan hovered over him.

"Are we back yet?" Reid asked in a voice much calmer than he felt.

"A few minutes more. It looked like you were having a nightmare, so I woke you." Morgan's headphones lay around his neck, and Reid could hear a tinny voice fighting to be heard over the ever-present hiss of air in the jet.

"Thanks," he said scratchily, and rubbed lightly over his neck, wincing. Morgan's gaze sharpened instantly, and Reid snatched his hand away. "It's nothing," he said quickly, but Morgan wasn't to be placated.

Startled by the sudden banking of the plane, Reid realized too late Morgan's intentions, and, by the time the plane had righted itself, Morgan had Reid braced in his seat, on his knees in front of the doctor with his hand in a circle around his wrist once again.

"If you want me to stop I will, but I need to see."

"The others…?" Reid asked hoarsely, and Morgan shook his head.

"They're sleeping. Even Hotch." Morgan rested a hand on Reid's knee and squeezed gently. "Just tell me to, and I'll stop."

Reid nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat and stammered, "Just… just d-do it quickly."

He wished he were impossibly small as Morgan opened his collar and gently inspected the bite, murmuring ominous promises as he did so. When Morgan's nail accidentally rasped over the welt, Reid gasped and grabbed Morgan's shoulder tightly.

"Tell me his name," Morgan whispered, and Reid wished, really wished he could. He shook his head instead, and Morgan let out a shaky breath, giving Reid one last weighty stare before removing his hands and sitting back, allowing Reid to button his shirt hastily. Reid sat back in his seat just as the fasten seatbelt sign flicked on and a voice announced their imminent arrival overhead. Reid inanely dug through his satchel as the rest of the team stirred around him, but even as the plane descended, he couldn't shake the feel of Morgan's eyes on him.

* * *

><p>I'm sorry it took so long guys; my usb broke and I lost the two chapters I'd already finished for you, and <em>that<em> was a pain in the ass, not to mention the fact that pretty much everything I've ever written is now lost, including some really personal stuff that I'm never going to get back. But! I'm halfway through the next chapter, which is going to be longer because it explains how Reid and Jonathan met, so you can look forward to that over the next few days.

-.-

Angst aside, hit that review button! If you've taken the time to read, surely you can take the time to review?

K. Torres


	5. Chapter 4

_*This chapter has spoilers for Season 2, specifically the fifteenth episode entitled "Revelations"_

_**Spoiler** If you have no idea what I'm talking about, run away, otherwise, be warned there is drug use/misuse in this chapter._

**Hesitance**

_Chapter Four_

* * *

><p>Somehow, he knew Jonathan would be home.<p>

It didn't matter that he spent the taxi ride with his hands clenched into white fists on his lap, clutching hard to the strap of his satchel. Neither that nor the hopeful mantra in his head could deny the fact that the old Corolla, with its blue paint chipped on its left rear door in the exact size and shape of Jonathan's fist. Reid had felt lucky that it hadn't been his face at the time, but he'd paid for it later. He always did.

So, when the taxi pulled up to the building, he gathered his things quickly, paying the cabbie and marching up to the door, ignoring the dread in the pit of his stomach. It would not do to keep Jonathan waiting.

It seemed the rasp of the key in the lock was louder than usual, but everything seemed magnified in the still night. The glare of lights from within and the blare of the television greeted Reid as he entered the apartment. He dropped his satchel by the door, which he hated to do, but often kept his partner from rummaging through its contents. Reid dropped his keys in a beagle-shaped ceramic dish-a gift from Garcia-and wiped his hands on his jeans as he walked into the great room.

Jonathan reclined with his back to Reid, the remote balanced on one knee, and a beer on the other. Reid's heart quickened, but he forced himself to take the leaden step to Jonathan's Barcalounger. Someone died violently on the screen in front of him, to Jonathan's apparent amusement.

"I thought you'd never get home, babe." Jonathan said as Reid laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

"I know, I know; I'm sorry. We got held up in traffic and the flight left like an hour and a half late-"

"You don't have to explain, Spence. Come 'ere; I haven't gotten to just touch you for so long."

Spencer skirted the chair and eased into Jonathan's lap, now devoid of both beer and remote. Reid felt a huge weight lifted from him as he looked into Jonathan's eyes-a deep, fathomless brown that was sharp with clarity; free of the haze of intoxication or otherwise.

"I missed you, you know," Pushing his face into Jonathan's neck, reveling in the hand carding gently through his hair. He'd let it grow out again, just for this.

"I know you did, baby." Jonathan sighed and made to kiss the side of Reid's neck, but the young doctor stiffened. "What the hell, Spencer?"

"It just...i-it still kinda hurts..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Reid felt his heart begin to pound. And shut his eyes tightly. _Just a few more minutes_, he begged silently, _please, anything..._

"Spencer, _what_ _hurts_?" Jonathan's voice was a low growl, and he grabbed Reid's shoulders, jerking him back so that he could look at the flushed face turned away from him. "_Look at me_."

"My neck," Reid whispered, eyes prickling, "A-and my arm. I got hurt on the job...I d-didn't want you to worry-"

"Let me see, baby," Jonathan's voice gentled, and he unbuttoned Reid's shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor on a gasp of, "Who the fuck did this to you?"

"The unsub," Reid lied, squirming uncomfortably, "He wasn't in his right mind...he didn't even know where he was..." Reid's voice cracked and he felt tears sliding, hot, down his cheeks, "Please...please just let it be..."

"Alright, alright, hush now...shh..." Jonathan pulled Reid against him, pressing gentle kisses to his heated face and smoothing his hands down Reid's scarred back and arms. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Reid's mouth and trailed down his neck, to the scratches on his collarbone and the long, thin scratch marring his chest. Appalled that someone had hurt Spencer, _his Spencer_, yet again, and furious that he could do nothing about it he whispered, "I've got you, baby; I've always got you."

And, safe in his arms, Spencer began to shake with the force of his sobs.

-.-

Jonathan lay next to Reid, silent, inert, completely calm, but for the occasional twitch of a finger or eyebrow. His body pressed against Reid's back, he was as restful as a babe, oblivious to the trembling of the man lying against him.

When he could take no more, Reid carefully slipped out of bed, wincing and shakily made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the minute aches of his body. Jonathan wasn't usually a careful lover, and tonight was no exception. The light of the bathroom was harsh and unforgiving as he flicked it on, closing the door quietly behind him. Reid's face was pale and drawn, pinched with pain and washed out by the blinding light.

Sighing, he looked away from the bluish bruises on his waist and arms, the brutal patch of red from the inflamed bite, and the delicate crepe of his eyelids, so papery they could barely shield him from the light. A shaky hand pulled open the mirror, revealing a cabinet full of half empty pill bottles. Reid saw, and was not surprised, to find the ones with Jonathan Whit's name on them full. Pushing these aside, he reached to the very back and curled his finger around an orange prescription bottle, no different from the ones surrounding it, except for the label partially obscured by Reid's fingers: Dilaudid.

He hadn't been able to stand the sight of needles since the night he killed Tobias, but an addiction to Dilaudid took hold of him anyway, in the form of two small green pills, innocuous enough until it found its way to Reid's nervous system. He'd managed to go three weeks without them this time, and he knew the withdrawal would be a _bitch_, but with Jonathan off his meds, Reid knew he'd be forced to turn to the pill at some point, and he'd rather do it when clear-headed, rather than out of a desperation that could beget overdose.

His mouth dry, Reid placed the two small pills under his tongue and swallowed, chasing it down with a handful of tap water, feeling them slide sluggishly down towards his stomach. He climbed over the lip of the bathtub and settled in, pulling his knees up to his chin and pressing his face against his thighs, away from the light. Then, Reid waited.

The pain began to ease slowly, and the first memory lapped at the edges of his awareness.

-.-

_It was always so cold at Bennington Sanitarium, and Reid wore a jacket over his vest and button-down. His mother still thought he was too thin, and Reid agreed. She touched a cold hand to his face, ever gentle, and kissed him on the forehead. He left seven minutes later, as she curled up by a window and gazed out of it endlessly; seeing nothing, feeling nothing. She did not stir as he returned her kiss and left a worn book by her bedside, its pages full of his cramped handwriting in the blank margins of the text._

_He took off his jacket as he left, and felt the sun beat down on his skin, warm and lively, coating him in a thin film of heat as a balm against the ice that settled in his heart._

_-.-_

It seemed Reid had always harbored an unhealthy love for the unhealthy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

I promised you guys a longer chapter with the SR/JW backstory, which, don't worry, I'm still doing. This is actually the first half of it; I just got tired of using page breaks because they were looking kinda _egh _and I didn't want to foist too much on you at once. Plus, this is as good a time as any to warn you that there is going to be a painful amount of angst in the next chapter or two. Part Two should be up tomorrow, god willing.

**BRACE YO'SELVES.**

And! Muchos gracias, merci beaucoup, thanks _a million_ to you guys, 'cause your reviews are wonderful, and they give me hope and a reason to write this thing at all. I love you guys, please keep inflating my ego with all your kind words, haha!

And, special thanks to:

_**Rayne McKenna**_

_**xSecretMagicx**_

_**Lynds**_

_**firecat777**_

...who have, through their words, inspired me to continue with my own, despite the crap that I've have been wading through like it's grass on my end.

But thank all of you, and please review! ('Cause I'm pretty sure I misspelled _somethin' _in there!)

Kay T.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hesitance**

_Chapter Five_

* * *

><p><em>The room is dark, the room is cold, the room is loud with the sound of breathing.<em>

_His head is thrown back, his throat exposed, his hair caught up in a tangle of fingers that pulls hard, yanking strands from his scalp._

_There is a voice at his ear, hot and wet and harsh, "Who are you?"_

_And there is a knife at his throat, pressing close, so close._

_A breath away from cutting._

_"Jonathan?"_

_"Wrong answer."_

* * *

><p>"Reid?"<p>

He stirred slightly, an ache in his back and a cramp in his leg.

"Reid, come on, pretty boy, wake up."

He rose slowly and asked groggily, "What?"

"Your phone's been ringing off the hook, and I didn't know if I should get it."

"Oh. Oh, sorry."

Reid peeled his face off his desk and rubbed at the dent in his cheek, ignoring Morgan's snort of laughter in favor of rooting around in his satchel for his cellphone. His hand closed around it just as it shrieked back to life, blaring the polyphonic beat of "The Hustle".

"Dear god, Reid," Morgan moaned, "Change your ringtone!"

"_Shut up_!" he hissed, recognizing Jonathan's name on his caller ID, and stuck his tongue out at Morgan, who flicked Reid's ear as he answered.

"Ow! Hello?"

_"Jesus, Spencer, I've called you like ten times-"_

"I know, I know...I-I knocked out for a second-"

_"What? Are you hurt?"_

_"_No, no, no; I'm just a bit tired. Morgan I swear to god, I'll make your gun disappear!" The last was spoken through clenched teeth, Reid's hand clamped over the mouthpiece of his voice as he tried to shoo away Morgan, who continued folding Reid's paper into an airplane regardless.

_"...wondered what you were doing in the bathroom so long last night."_

_"_Look, I don't mean to sound rude, but I really can't talk now. I'm at work."

There was a long pause, and Morgan's pen halted abruptly.

"Is _he _there?"

"I..." Reid was all too aware of Morgan's eyes on him. "I can't..."

_"Goddamnit, Reid." _Jonathan's voice was gruff on the other end and Reid swallowed hard against the apology in his throat. _"We'll talk about this when you get home."_

"Okay," but the line was dead, and Reid's hand shook slightly.

"Reid?"

"I'm fine."

"Reid..."

Reid stood up quickly and turned away, walking swiftly towards the bathroom and praying it was empty. His wish granted, Reid gripped the cold porcelain of the sink and panted shakily, his grip white as bone. Reid's eyes were shut tight against his own reflection, his breathing ragged an disjointed as he forced his thoughts away from memories and old wounds.

_"Who are you?"_

"No!" Reid slammed his fist into the sink, letting the lancing pain in his knuckles pull him away as he gasped and submerged in the bloom of pain. Slowly, though, the memories resufaced.

-.-.-.-

He met Jonathan Whit at Bennington's. Then and there he should have known something was wrong, but Jonathan's eyes where brown and his smile was crooked and the crazy ones never look it, do they?

Jonathan had been sitting with his mom the first time, he could tell. When Reid had rounded the corner to his mother's room, Jonathan had been standing at his mother's side, slinging on his jacket. It was winter, and there was a biting wind outside, but Reid had still come to visit his mother. Jonathan looked up as he entered and smiled crookedly, making Reid's heart squeeze just by saying, "You must be Spencer."

Then he'd left, throwing a 'goodbye' over his shoulder for Reid's mother, and Diana refused to say anything more on the matter.

He saw Jonathan many more times after that. The next had been just as Reid had left. Jonathan had brushed past him at the door, apparently not recognizing him as he muttered "sorry" and went on his way inside. Just as the door closed, though, Reid saw Jonathan turn, brows knit in confusion, toward him. His eyes lit up in recognition a moment later, and he smiled and waved and Reid saw clutched in his hand a battered copy of Faust. Reluctantly, Reid walked back to his car and sat inside grippinng the steering wheel and wondering why his heart was beating so fast. _It isn't love_, he thought, _but maybe something like it?_

Reid wasn't often wrong. But when he was, it seemed, he did it grandly, as if the world wasn't satisfied with a mere trip or stumble. Spencer Reid was destined to fall head over heel, flat on his face, wrong.

The first time Jonathan touched him, just a brief brush past him as he held open the door, all smiles, Reid had jumped like he'd been electrocuted-and indeed it had felt like it. His breath hitched, his skin itched, and his blood pounded in his ears as he stumbled past, stuttering salutations and apologies in the same breath. It was a short fall after that, as Jonathan saw to it to invade Reid's personal space for even the briefest of moments at the every fleeting encounter, leaving Reid breathless and wanting. When one day Reid felt the warm brush of Jonathan's hand against his, and the crisp edge of a paper clasped in it, he didn't hesitate. He clung to that paper like a lifeline and dialed the number with shaking hands the moment he got home.

_"Spencer,"_

Reid may have gasped then, but he distinctly remember answering with a shaky 'hi?' and then a more bold, "Er, hello, I mean." Jonathan had chuckled warmly in his ear and then Reid was well and truly lost. It just took him three months to realize it.

"Reid,"

Reid spun around, saw Morgan standing in the doorway, and felt something twist in his gut.

"Before you say anything, I'm fine, and I don't need your help."

"See, you've been sayin' that a lot lately and I gotta tell you, it doesn't inspire a lot of confidence." A quick glance around confirmed the room was, indeed, empty, and Morgan took a step closer a moment later, "We need to ta-"

"I don't feel well."

"What? Reid?" Morgan's voice rose in alarm as he watched the young doctor's eyes go glassy and unfocused.

"I d-don't," Reid's vision swam sickeningly, and his hand lashed out toward the sink to steady himself, "I dont...feel well. Morgan?" His vision graying, Reid felt Morgan's hands come under his elbows, fighting to hold him up. Then, there were many voices, and they weren't in his head but Reid couldn't quite feel grateful when he heard a voice say 'Dilaudid' and the hands were gone and there were bright lights in his eyes and a voice saying, 'Can you hear me, Dr. Reid?'. It took him a few tries, but Reid fought through the nausea and whispered hoarsely, "Yeah," before he allowed himself to black out.

The first thing Reid heard when he swam back to consciousness, after a great deal of groaning and mental 'oh god I feel like crap' was, "Reid, you freaking idiot!" and, "Chill, Garcia." It took all his willpower to open his eyes, because he knew Garcia would choose that exact moment to dive on him in a flurry of maternal anger/love, and he didn't know if he could handle that quite yet. But he blinked the drowsiness out of his eyes and focused his vision on a giant teddy bear with two pairs of arms. Garcia emerged from behind it and slapped him good-naturedly on the arm before planting a wet kiss on his forhead and hurrying out to go find Hotch and a doctor. Morgan stared at him from across the room, leaning forward in his chair with a red envelope in his hand.

"Morgan..."

The agent sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, and it occured to Reid that his eyes were shadowed and Morgan had been _worried_.

"I'm sor-"

"Jack made this for you," Morgan tossed the envelope at the foot of Reid's bed and stood stiffly, exiting quickly afterward.

Reid pressed his lips together thinly, to stifle a scream he couldn't explain that was welling inside him. Swallowing the not rising in his throat, Reid turned onto his side and pressed his face into the soft brown fur of the teddy bear Garcia left him, wishing that it could defy the laws of nature just _once_ and hug him back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

So. It's been a while. A _long _while.

*facepalm*

GAH. Okay, so this is actually a short chapter comparitively, and there's not much happening by way of action or _relationships, _but we do start to get a feel for how Reid and Jonathan met and their relationship developed. A bit. Erm.

Okay, so this chapter sucks, and believe me I'm sorry, especially since I promised this_ a lot_ earlier. I don't plan on abandoning this fic, because I have endless inspiration for it, unlike other sad, sad projects which are looking pretty pathetic right now. Ugh.

My suckiness aside, be gentle if you're going to review, 'cause I know there's _someone_ out there who is totally gearing up for an anonymous rant right now. I can't give you a projected update date, because _holy crap_ I'm busy, but I promise you this _will be updated, I swear. _I'm going to try and end this within the next 3-ish chapters, so that I can give you a satisfying resolution without trying to just push out more and more chapters that are actually really crappy. Hopefully they'll be rather padded and illuminating, but you might have to wait for it. I totally understand if you give up on this story, because no one likes to wait, right? Just know that I'm not, 'cause goddamnit, Morgan/Reid needs some love!

Okay, I'm done.

~Kay


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